


Moonlight

by superagentwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Pack Building, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Traumatized Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/superagentwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>UPDATE: Rating changed for small (but shameless) smut.</p><p>A wandering pack attacks Scott's pack and has everyone involved in the fight; the wolves make a shocking move and Stiles is in need of rescuing.<br/>The aftermath is what really gets him, though.<br/>-<br/>In which Stiles deals with multiple traumatic episodes, the pack begins to come together, and a few revelations are made about Stiles' role both in the pack and in his friends' lives.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sliver

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd as always. I do my best (not) work at 3 AM.

“Stiles.”

His name echoes through the cave, lingering like a ghost. Derek’s voice is unsteady, edging on panicked. Stiles tries to open his mouth to speak but his body feels like lead, impossible to move and far too heavy. There are voices and sound from somewhere above him and he thinks he can hear Scott’s roar.

“Stiles, _answer_ me,” Derek growls, and Stiles tries desperately to make a noise. The only thing that escapes his lips is a small cry, the sound of a wounded animal. He blinks rapidly, realizing his eyes aren’t open, and is panicked for a moment when he only sees blackness.

They’re trapped underground.

Everything comes rushing back in an instant- the wandering pack, the threats, everything that’s been leading up to this for weeks. It’s too much information at once but Stiles knows he has to think, has to figure out how to get out of this mess he’s in.

Stiles remembers Scott being lured out into the woods. He remembers Kira going as backup, hidden in the trees. Derek had been reluctant and warning- for the first time, he and Stiles really _agreed_ on something.

And it all went wrong.

The wandering pack was ragtag but they had little to lose. The wolves had fought recklessly, angry and desperate- and though they had no chance of winning, they’d done the one thing that they should never have dared. They went after a human.

Stiles could hold his own. He knew his way around a baseball bat, had been listening to Deaton and saving up stores of his own wolfsbane and assorted items. It wasn’t a problem for him to face a wolf that was weak and alone. The problem was that no one else seemed to think so.

Scott was distracted when the wolf went after Stiles and the other wolf took advantage of the fact, tackling Scott down a slope. Kira had rushed after him and Derek had stopped for a moment- the smallest sliver of time- and that was when it happened. The barely noticeable cave, dug out in a hurry by the wandering pack, was just within reach. Derek was thrown back and Stiles, in his mindless compassion, had tried to aid him.

One of the wolves kicked Stiles in and then the whole word fell down.

“Stiles, are you hurt?” Derek seems slightly less frantic, but Stiles can’t see a thing and he feels _wrong_.

“Der-,” Stiles’ voice cuts off and he coughs violently, chest tightening painfully as he feels his head swim. There are scuffling noises from his left side and his back hurts where he’s lying on the ground.

“Stiles!” This time it’s Scott, and he sounds like he’s about to cry. Stiles wonders vaguely what the big deal is, it’s just dirt, and then he realizes the faraway, muffled voices are a bit _too_ far away and muffled. “Stiles, are you okay?!”

“Fine!” Stiles manages, and then he coughs again when dirt rains down on him. The ceiling is too close and he’s beginning to feel frighteningly claustrophobic.

“Stiles, a tree fell over the entrance. We can move it, but some of this debris might push you further,” Derek says, and the tightness in his voice makes Stiles realize how serious it is. He tries to visualize it, imagining the tree laying over the entrance, rubble and dirt piled in behind it.

“Do you have any room to move?” Kira sounds worried and Stiles tries to move his head, back twinging in pain as he looks back. The dirt is piled up just next to his shoulder, packed tight and littered with branches and muck.

“Not much,” Stiles calls back, trying not to breathe too hard. The smell of earth is overwhelming and he’s starting to see spots in his vision. He tries taking even breaths, closing his eyes for a moment to try and calm himself.

“We can’t!” Scott says, and Stiles can almost see Derek’s face. The face that acknowledges the gravity of the situation but refuses to budge. He knows what has to be done. “It’ll crush him!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Derek says. “We can’t dig down; the collapsing dirt might bury him for good. If we move this, we can buy some time.”

“It’s a little crowded in here, guys. Can I leave now?” Stiles jokes, but he knows the claustrophobia and pain is obvious in his voice.

“Okay, but hurry,” Scott finally says, and he sounds anguished. Stiles takes a deep breath, preparing for the dirt to come raining down.

“Hold your breath for a minute,” Derek calls, and Stiles hears the desperation in his voice. It’s new and unusual and Stiles isn’t sure he likes it.

The earth moves.

There’s the cracking of wood and a rumble that Stiles _feels_ as the dirt moves, terrifyingly close and unstable. The rubble on his left begins to shake and tumble, small clots of dirt flying at his face. Part of him wants to look away, terrified- but part of him is unable to tear his eyes away from the devouring earth. A rock tumbles towards him, flying into his side, and he lets out an involuntary cry of pain. The dirt is in the air and Stiles coughs, squeezing his eyes shut against the irritating grain.

Stiles thinks that this is what it must feel like to be laid to rest. And then he realizes it. He’s been _buried alive_. The thought he’s been avoiding hits him like the earth that’s begun pressing him insistently from all sides. It’s terrifying and he thinks for a moment that this might be it. Someone is digging at the dirt and the shifting ground pushes painfully against Stiles. Tears track down his dirt-smeared face and he tries not to panic and breathe too much, feeling the heavy air choking him.

There is a sliver of moonlight from somewhere and Stiles chokes out a cry, struggling to move but stopping when the shifting earth presses against him. He tries to lift his hand and ignores the weight he feels, desperately reaching for an opening.

Suddenly, there is _air_.

Stiles feels the cold night air on his hand and someone grips his fingers- but it’s not Scott. The hand is rough and large, reassuring for a moment and then disappearing.

“ _No_ ,” Stiles gasps, and he hears someone say something but he is deaf to everything as dirt rains on him and then everything is broken and he’s gasping for breath as he’s pulled from the ground, coughing and stiff from the pain of when he was thrown down.

“Stiles,” Derek says, and his hands are on Stiles’ face and Stiles opens his dirt-encrusted eyes to see the moon shining down on Derek, illuminating him from the side. Stiles hears Scott moving from where he’s been holding the tree a few yards away and he almost turns his head but there’s something in Derek’s eyes and he can’t look away.

Stiles knows he looks like a scared deer, eyes wide, and everyone can _literally_ hear his pounding pulse. Derek doesn’t seem to care, though, and Stiles wonders for a moment what’s happening when he feels rough lips push against his, relieved and agonized. It’s different than anything else and Stiles can _feel it_ , can _feel_ what Derek wants to say. Stiles can feel Derek’s pain, the way he was scared. _So scared_.

And Stiles doesn’t realize, didn’t even mean to, but his arms are holding Derek close and they’re out of breath and clinging to each other like two drowning men. Stiles buries his head in Derek’s shoulder as he breathes rapidly, unevenly, and begins to cry.

Scott is there in a moment, and Kira is close behind. Even Liam, the newest pack member, stays close to Stiles as they all sit in the moonlight, grateful for what they’ve been given.

_No one dies tonight._


	2. 123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with the aftermath of being buried alive and the way his friends are handling it.

It’s been a week and Stiles feels like a disease. He knows he shouldn’t, has been through this before, but the thought is still there.

Scott’s been a constant companion- at least as much as he can, between training Liam and trying to move forward with Kira. Both Kira and Liam make the cursory nod in the hallways, Kira smiling reassuringly every time they pass each other. Lydia is there but Stiles can practically _hear_ her guilt, the growling beast that’s always looming over her these days. She’s having a hard time dealing. Stiles knows how she feels- gifted with something she doesn’t know how to control, has no way of understanding, constantly watching her own supposed failures and the way her friends are in danger when she can’t help.

Derek’s absence is not strange at all, but it’s the one that Stiles really notices. Stiles isn’t the type to pine away in silence- he usually pursues a subject until he’s either attacked or reaches an answer- but this is different. Stiles can’t shake the feeling of emerging from the earth, gasping for breath. The way that Derek, without any kind of explanation or preamble, kissed Stiles like he was the most important thing in the world.

There is so much wrong right now that Stiles is looking over his shoulder in paranoia, expecting some form of supernatural creature to laugh at him coldly and pull back the veil that resembles reality.

The bell rings and everyone cheers, ready for Friday and unconcerned about anything else. Stiles mechanically shoves books into his backpack, feeling the weight against the flowery bruise on his back. The pain grounds him, reminding him he needs to get out to his car before traffic becomes unbearable. Stiles slips into the stream of students, moving quietly through the spaces as he heads to his locker to pick up a few things.

Scott is standing across the hallway, leaning against a locker, talking to Kira. Liam’s there too, serious but more secure than he seemed when Scott had first turned him. Stiles moves to join them until he gets closer and hears Scott, who’s facing the other way and hasn’t seen him.

“…pack meeting.”

The two words fall heavily on Stiles’ shoulders and he lets himself be dragged back into the flow of bodies, numb and vaguely upset. He should know better by know- he and Scott exist in separate spheres; by all rights, Scott shouldn’t even be friends with Stiles any more. Scott is a werewolf; he has a pack that understands him better than anyone else and they have their own issues to deal with. Stiles has never really been included except for the times when Scott has insisted, when there have been pack members missing and Stiles had worked to fill the gap with his own clumsy abilities.

It’s nothing he shouldn’t expect by now, and in an effort to make the process less painful, he takes the opportunity to slip out the front doors and leave.

 

* * *

 

Stiles falls asleep almost as soon as he gets home. Despite his attempts to stay awake and the knowledge of what will happen if he sleeps, the exhaustion that’s been hounding him all week finally takes over.

At first it seems that nothing’s going to happen. There is only unconsciousness, dark and quiet- and then something stirs. Stiles can feel it but there’s no fighting it, the panic creeping up on him. The dark becomes grainy and suffocating, morphing into walls that press against him from all sides. He knows better but Stiles instinctively flexes, reaching out on all sides in an attempt to make more room for himself. There is no room, and his heart begins to beat erratically. His breaths start to come in uneven, shallow gasps, and he knows he’s losing air quick in the small space. His mind races through statistics, the probability and danger of calling for help scrolling by his blackened vision like the credits to a terrible movie.

Stiles screams.

His cries for help become thready, voice failing and oxygen similarly exhausted. Stiles feels his lungs burning, mouth opening and closing violently as he searches for air that isn’t there.

A hand shakes Stiles awake, jolting him back to reality, and Stiles blinks away the blindness of the dream to see his room lit by the moon, window wide open. Derek is by Stiles’ bed, one knee on the mattress. Scott is hovering close, eyes wide and panicked. Kira and Liam hover by the doorway, checking back over their shoulders occasionally like sentinels.

The panic attack is still clinging but Scott quickly moves to Stiles’ side, words and touches familiar and grounding as he works through the process that is all too familiar to them. Derek stays by Stiles’ bedside, unsure hands clenching intermittently as he watches Stiles intently.

The attack fades and Stiles, desperately wanting for this never to have happened, looks to Kira and Liam. Some hysterical corner of his mind latches onto them.

“He won’t wake up. I set his radio on a timer. The static blocks out noise,” Stiles says, and his calm, procedural tone sounds out of place even to his own ears.

Kira looks ready to cry, and that’s not what Stiles wanted at all and Liam seems to have pity in his eyes and Stiles hates that but most of all he hates the way that Scott is looking at Stiles with such a betrayed expression.

“How long?” Derek is the one to ask, and Stiles feels some sort of reassurance in the way Derek winces at his own steely tone.

“Doesn’t matter. What can you do?” Stiles feels the sarcasm in the question and he wants to hate himself for it but he knows he’s right. “Do werewolf powers extend into psychological damage?”

Scott makes a hurt noise and Stiles feels sorry for him, knowing this damage is too soon. Too soon after the other monster they couldn’t fight, the invisible demon that caused so much pain.

“Stiles, I can-,”

“No- Scott,” Stiles interrupts, and he tries for a smile that’s too weak and keeps coming and going. “You can’t do anything. And I’m not hurting anybody this time, right?”

“You’re hurting yourself,” Derek says quietly, and the silence seems to grow impossibly. Derek, who doesn’t _really_ care. Derek who thinks that Stiles is a nuisance. That same Derek is trying to help Stiles.

“Go home,” Derek says, turning slightly to face Scott and the others. “All of you. It’s late and this isn’t helping.”

“But I-,”

“Scott,” Derek says, admonishing, and Stiles is reminded again of just how much their relationship has changed. _Like brothers. Not one above the other anymore._ “He needs sleep. I’ll stay.”

Scott reluctantly nods, and Stiles feels with some guilt that this is the closest Scott has probably come to hugging him since they were standing in a white-walled room with a metal monster buzzing ominously behind them. The pack leaves slowly and Stiles tries not to think about Derek and the way he’s standing so close.

“You don’t have to stay,” Stiles says quietly, and he feels something burn inside of him. _I want him to stay. But I’m selfish. It’s just a mistake. That’s all._

“Yes, I do,” Derek says calmly, and he turns Stiles’ head gently from where he was staring at the wall. The touch is unfamiliar, especially coming from Derek, and Stiles is so temporarily shocked that he doesn’t move as Derek leans down.

_One is an incident, two is a coincidence,_ Stiles’ mind sings at him. But it can’t just be a coincidence, can it? How do you accidentally kiss someone twice?

“Is this just your reaction to someone in trouble, because if it is…,” Stiles says hysterically, and he knows he probably looks and sounds unhinged but Derek sighs in a way that’s not angry and silences Stiles again with his mouth.

_A pattern._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm sorry for the delay! I've been having a crazy first week back at college. Anyways, I'm sorry it's short but I tried to make this chapter a transition between Stiles' ordeal and the conversation that Stiles and Derek need to have about Derek's...kissing thing. Mostly I just wanted to show Stiles reflecting on his position not only as Scott's friend but as someone proxy to the supernatural goings-on at Beacon Hills. I hope you enjoyed! R&R!


	3. Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek talks to Stiles and tries to explain the 'why' part; Stiles tries to uncover more about their relationship. Some distinctions about importance and pack are made.

It’s like living in the Twilight Zone, minus the black-and-white. Things are eerily different but the change is so subtle that Stiles can almost believe it’s true.

Derek stayed with Stiles the whole night, a silent guardian holding him close with impossibly strong arms. Stiles hadn’t really slept, drifting in a halfway state as he enjoyed the most peace he’d felt in months.

They had talked.

Stiles felt like it was ridiculous to say that Derek didn’t talk. He _did_ talk- his sentences just consisted of five words and were typically directions or threats. There were hurts and walls that Derek had built up over the years and Stiles understood that. He knew what it was like to lose, what it meant to protect what was left with tooth and nail. But Derek didn’t believe he had anyone- no friend, no confidante he could talk to. He had nowhere to empty his well.

Until that night, Stiles had never known Derek to _talk_ so much. He knew Scott and Derek were closer, had overcome some of their initial distrust and communication issues- but it was another thing entirely for Derek to talk about his _feelings_.

“When…Kate attacked me, I was unconscious for a moment,” Derek had said, lying next to Stiles on the bed. Stiles was staring up at the ceiling, but he turned his head slightly in recognition. “It was weird. I thought it was a dream. And…I was talking to _you_.”

Stiles had felt confusion settle in and he turned further, questioning Derek with his eyes.

“It was at the school. Locker room. I was asking you about dreaming. How you know if you’re awake,” Derek had explained, wincing a little at the last part. Stiles shifted on his side, watching Derek. “You told me about the fingers. Counting your fingers in your dreams.”

“Yeah,” Stiles had whispered, afraid to scare Derek away. “You have extra fingers in dreams.”

Derek had gazed at his hands then, his frown curiously endearing. Like he was expecting to be dreaming. He turned to Stiles abruptly, gaze piercing.

“It was important,” Derek explained, and he watched Stiles intently. Stiles had been confused, brow furrowed, lips parted slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw _you_. _You_ were the one I talked to,” Derek had repeated, and Stiles frowned, unsure.

“But I _knew_. I was probably the only one. You talked to me because you knew I would know. You knew I had experience with…waking dreams,” Stiles rationalized, but something nagged at the back of his mind.

“No. I should’ve talked to Scott. I should’ve talked to Peter, Deaton, anyone- not you. Why would I go straight to you?” Stiles felt the words like a punch to his stomach, and he knew it showed on his face.

“I-,”

“I never wanted you to be a part of this,” Derek said softly, and Stiles had looked back at him again. “You should’ve had a normal life. Not this- running around, being hurt. You’re an easy target, Stiles. And it’s not _just_ werewolves and kanimas- it was Gerard and Kate, too. _People_.”

“And?” Stiles had interrupted, beginning to see what Derek was trying to say. “Staying away from you, from Scott- it wouldn’t make a difference. Do you think they care? As long as I know _anything_ at all they’ll come after me. The only thing staying away will do is make me an easier target.”

Derek shook his head, but Stiles could see him fighting a smile. It was nice, Derek smiling. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while and he knew Derek deserved it. Some form of happiness.

“It was selfish, Stiles. That’s why it was you. I _wanted_ you to stay. As much as I hated you being in danger, I couldn’t stand you being away, somewhere I couldn’t talk to you, protect you.”

“Derek…that was almost romantic,” Stiles had said, and Derek had ducked his head, chuckling. “In a Twilight, supernatural-stalker-boyfriend kind of way,” Stiles added, and Derek had growled playfully, pulling Stiles close.

They had stayed close the rest of the night, Stiles breathing evenly as Derek slept lightly next to him. It felt _right_. And Stiles hoped with all of his heart that it wouldn’t end any time soon.

 

* * *

 

“Why did you show up that night?”

Derek froze for a moment, hand resting on a can he’d pulled out of the brown paper bag. Stiles moved about the kitchen routinely, trying to let Derek gather himself. _Like courting a wild animal._

“I felt something,” Derek said quietly, and Stiles leaned against the pantry door, arms crossed comfortably as he watched Derek finish unloading the bag on the counter.

“What do you mean?” Stiles moved to sit on the countertop, watching Derek move over silently. Derek stood in front of him and Stiles parted his legs instinctively, letting Derek fill the space quietly as he rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I thought…I _felt_ you. Just…with me. A presence,” Derek explained, and Stiles frowned, fingers reassuringly combing through Derek’s short hair.

“So you knew something was wrong?”

“Not really. I _felt_ you there, but it was strange. Like hearing someone yelling from far away. You can’t tell what they’re saying, but…,”

“But it makes you wonder. Come closer,” Stiles finished, understanding. He frowned as a thought came to him. “Wait. Like Lydia.” Derek stepped back for a moment and Stiles could practically see his mind racing.

“Yeah- yeah, maybe.” Derek looked up at Stiles, questioning. Like he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

“Do you think…do you know why you felt something?”

“Pack- _family_ is closer than anything. Sometimes, if the bond is strong enough, you can feel them when they’re not close,” Derek contemplated, and Stiles tilted his head back against the cabinets as he thought. “There are- stories,” Derek added hesitantly, and Stiles reached for him, reassuringly pulling him close again.

“What kind of stories?”

“Sometimes we…a werewolf can have a mate,” Derek bit out, and he seemed worried. Stiles blinked, tilting his head.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Derek said, but he seemed relieved. As if he’d been expecting a different reaction. “It’s like a balance. Alpha, Beta, and Omega- they’re part of a balance. But there’s also mates. A balance that can create harmony, the perfect match.”

“Ah. So you’re saying we’re meant to be?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in a smirk. Derek huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Sure,” Derek said, smirking as he tugged at Stiles’ belt loops, head tilting upwards as Stiles laughed, meeting him halfway.

_Maybe we are_ , Stiles thought to himself as they kissed. It seemed- for risk of sounding cliché- _right_. Like they fit together, Derek’s stockier arms beside Stiles’ longer, lithe ones. It was over too soon and Stiles made a sound of annoyance as Derek laughed softly, moving to put away the remaining groceries.

“We’re having a pack meeting tomorrow night,” Derek began as he folded the paper bag carefully. Stiles rested his chin on one knee, watching Derek’s hands.

“I’ll go-,”

“Nowhere,” Derek interrupted firmly, and although he continued his task Stiles sensed tension. “I want you here.”

“Why?” Stiles asked softly, and he eased himself off the counter carefully. Derek put the bag away, biting his lip for a moment.

“You should be here,” Derek said finally, and he seemed completely sure of the statement. “It’s not fair to keep you out. Scott’s your friend…they’re your friends, and you deserve to know whatever happens.”

Stiles smiled softly, looking down at Derek’s hand as he intertwined their fingers, fitting them together like puzzle pieces.

“Thank you,” Stiles said softly, and he pulled Derek closer, smiling into the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one! I want Derek to be more vocal in this story because I feel like he's been slowly changing through the TV series. I like that he's not just the fighter any more, the guy that threatens everyone and smiles with all teeth. I like the idea that after the whole nogitsune experience, everyone is starting to realize that sometime evil is hard to fight even with claws and teeth. They understand fragility and the importance of one another in their lives. Anyways, R&R! Next up will feature more pack-building and relationship experiences.


	4. Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a strange conversation with Scott; Derek shows up at school.   
> Maybe it's unexpected- but maybe they've been building up to this, or something like this, for a long time.

Scott makes a weird face when Stiles slides into the bench across from him at lunch. For a moment Stiles ignores it in favor of downing half of his water bottle, but the persistent scrunch of Scott’s nose makes him sigh heavily.

“What?”

Scott squirms in his seat, poking at a leaf of salad with his fork. Stiles stares at him expectantly, arms crossed, ready to hear about some new threat to their life.

“It’s…you kind of…smell,” Scott manages, and his embarrassed face is tilted down at his tray in extreme concentration. Stiles feels his mouth open in indignation and he leans back for a moment, running a hand over his face indignantly.

“What- dude! Just because I don’t bathe in rose oil-,”

“No, Stiles- I mean, you smell like…some _one_ ,” Scott corrects with a grimace, and Stiles can’t think of anything to say.

“What the he- what do you mean, I smell like someone? What-,”

“You smell like _Derek_ ,” Scott finally manages, and his severely reproachful gaze falls on Stiles as ifhe’s just made him do something terrible.

“Oh,” Stiles manages, but then he frowns as he picks at the sweet potato tots on his plate. “But last night-,”

“No- dude, I don’t- don’t tell me,” Scott interrupts, panicked, and Stiles scoffs in disbelief.

“What, so I get to hear _all_ about _your_ sex life and your makeout sessions and your perfect love but I-,”

“Stiles,” Scott tries to interrupt, placating, but Stiles sighs, stabbing at a tot.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything. There’s nothing _to_ say. He stayed over to make sure I got some sleep.”

Stiles is vaguely satisfied when Scott has the good grace to look apologetic. The whole scene is absurd, Stiles realizes, but being best friends means that there has to be _some_ sort of agreement when it comes to their personal relationships. Especially since one of them can _smell_ everything. Anyways, Stiles isn’t really the oversharing type- he just likes the fact he can finally show off.

Because who wouldn’t want to show off their super-hot werewolf boyfriend?

“We have a pack meeting tonight,” Scott begins, and Stiles nods, waving a hand as he finishes off the water bottle.

“Yeah, Derek told me.”

“He did?” Scott asks, and he seems to be scrutinizing Stiles with a strange expression.

“He did. He said it wasn’t fair to me, keeping me away, since most of my friends are supernatural creatures. Well. _All_ of my friends.”

“And he just…told you to join? Just like that?” Something about Scott’s suspicious and incredulous tone rubs Stiles the wrong way and he frowns, gathering up his trash.

“Yeah. I mean, he said I could probably help out anyways. And I won’t be doing any good if I run into some crazy hunter in town and don’t even know what they are.”

“Huh,” Scott says, staring at his tray as if he’s going to find an answer to whatever it is he’s questioning. Stiles grabs his tray, watching as Lydia and Kira make their way over.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Stiles says, and before he can get an answer he runs off to his locker.

 

* * *

 

Lacrosse practice runs a little bit over and Stiles wearily strips off his gear, packing everything away as the team noisily chatters and showers. Before long he’s the only one left and Scott is walking out the door, bag slung easily over one shoulder.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

“Nah. I need a good shower. Besides, we still have an hour till we leave for Derek’s.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” Scott says, and as he leaves Stiles goes to a shower, turning the tap on and throwing his towel over the tiled, chest-high wall. The water is thankfully hot and he sighs, stepping into the spray with eyes closed.

“Hey.” Derek’s voice is soft but Stiles smiles as he hears it over the water pounding a beat onto his head.

“Hey, sourwolf.” Stiles turns to lean his crossed arms on top of the wall, water dripping from his lashes and past flushed skin. Derek’s lips quirk into a smirk and he glances down at Stiles’ arms, lashes fanned against the arch of his cheekbones.

“How are you?” It’s the silly, almost pointless question that a stranger might ask, but somehow, it feels different. Somehow knowing that Derek knows what’s been going on in Stiles’ life makes it special. Like his words mean what they are and so much more. Stiles sighs contentedly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Derek’s.

“Good. Better now,” Stiles hums happily, and Derek laughs, fingers threading softly through Stiles’ damp hair. It’s longer than ever now and it feels good to have Derek tug at it gently, pulling Stiles into a kiss.

If there’s one thing Stiles will never get sick of, it’s kissing Derek. Maybe it’s just how he is or maybe Derek is consciously making an effort but Derek kisses Stiles like there’s no hurry. Like they own their own universe and time isn’t important, like they’ll be together for eons, until the end of time, and each kiss is equal. Like every time is the first and the last.

When they part Derek chuckles, scratching Stiles’ scalp with his fingers.

“You should finish.”

“You could help me finish,” Stiles responds cheekily, and for a second he thinks he sees Derek’s eyes glow. It’s only a second, though, and the color is gone too quickly for Stiles to be sure.

“We don’t have time,” Derek says mildly, but Stiles can _tell_ that he’s trying to convince himself, too. Stiles bites his lip to stop a full-on grin and he shrugs, turning and walking boldly across the stall.

“Whatever you say,” Stiles says over his shoulder, fighting a smile when he sees the way Derek watches his every move with great interest. _I’m tired of being scared,_ Stiles thinks to himself, and he realizes that while cuddles and kisses are great, it’s not the extent of what he wants and he’s not afraid to admit it.

In a moment of blind determination, Stiles sighs loudly, tilting his head back to feel the spray on his face. There’s a scratching noise that could be wolf nails on tile but Stiles is on a roll and he (thinks) he knows what to do so he stretches his arms above his head, hands on alternate elbows, pulling the muscles of his shoulders pleasantly. He is blatantly displaying himself and the shameless stretching should be making him blush but he’s too focused on the thought that Derek is watching.

And fuck if _that_ thought doesn’t change things. Stiles is starting to realize his little plan is going to make things awkward if he has to turn around. Or do anything in general, if Derek doesn’t either leave or-

There’s a low growl from right behind him and Stiles feels his breath catch, pulse skyrocketing for a reason that isn’t fear- which should be worrying, this apparent fact that Stiles is quickly losing his fight-or-flight instinct. Derek’s mouth closes around Stiles’ neck and Stiles hears his moans echo shamelessly off the walls, reverberating in the small space with intensity.

“You’re getting wet,” Stiles manages to say, and he knows what it sounds like with his breathlessness and uneven tone. Derek’s hands burn a path down Stiles’ sides and he chuckles, nose pressed to wet skin.

“I planned ahead,” Derek says huskily, and Stiles feels spots burst over his vision as he feels an equally naked chest brush his back. The sensation is alien but the solid heat of Derek’s body is so welcoming that Stiles doesn’t question it at all. It feels _right_ and Stiles can’t think of how to convey that except for the wanting arch of his back as he tries to get closer to Derek.

Stiles feels Derek’s hands loosen their grip and he turns, finding Derek’s mouth with helpless need. Stiles is filled with sudden need to do something brash and he nips at Derek experimentally, testing the waters. The effect is instantaneous.

Derek’s growl rips through the shower and Stiles gasps as he’s shoved back against the wall, space invaded as Derek holds his chin in place with one hand. It’s a kiss that feels downright _filthy_ and Stiles imagines that this is probably what it feels like to give a blowjob, except Derek’s tongue is significantly smaller than the heat he feels radiating from a spot close to his leg.

“Note to self- bite more,” Stiles says breathlessly, and Derek huffs in vague amusement, hands wandering over Stiles’ hips.

“I’m still a wolf,” Derek reminds him, and Stiles snorts at the statement, enjoying the water as it runs over his heated body.

“Right. Well, big bad wolf, how about we get on with it? Not much time and all,” Stiles says in a mock-serious tone. Somehow he finds the courage to slip his hands around Derek’s waist, traveling back to scrape his short nails against tight skin.

_I just grabbed his ass,_ Stiles wonders, and he almost can’t believe it until the growling returns, and then Stiles feels his wrists being wrenched away and pinned against the wall. Derek is breathing heavily, lips hovering by Stiles’ neck, but it feels more like he’s controlling himself, not like he’s about to do something.

“What?” Stiles asks dazedly, confused. He’s not sure what just went wrong, if anything.

“We are _not_ doing this here,” Derek grits through his teeth, but his body keeps swaying towards Stiles.

“I’m pretty sure I _want_ to, and so do _you_ ,” Stiles says, disbelieving, and Derek shakes his head.

“No. You don’t. _We_ don’t. I’m not…you’re not doing this for the first time in a _locker room_ ,” Derek argues, and Stiles sighs, feeling the tension that’s been building up at the base of his spine. It’s _definitely_ not going away any time soon, so he does the next best thing he can think of.

“Fine. We won’t. But I’m not wasting this,” Stiles says calmly, and before Derek can argue he drops to the ground, pushing Derek back into the wall as he holds his hips in place. For a moment Derek is frozen in shock and then Stiles makes his move, mind racing with everything he has actually _researched_ about how to logistically, successfully give someone a blowjob.

_Try to keep your teeth out of the equation,_ Stiles recites, and even though he has a pretty good idea of what he’s doing he still experimentally takes the head into his mouth for a moment, tasting salt and something earthier and very _Derek_. Derek inhales sharply, breaking out of his reverie to grip Stiles’ neck.

“Stiles-,” Derek tries to say something and Stiles knows it’s probably an argument so he quickly abandons his nerves, reasoning that they really _do_ need to be somewhere soon and it won’t be good for them to go to a pack meeting smelling like- well, sex.

Stiles moves slowly, allowing a little at a time so he can get used to the expanse resting carefully in his mouth. He knows to breathe through his nose and relax but the odd sensation of something in his throat makes him stutter for a moment, gagging spastically for a moment. Derek stops moving, fingers reassuring, and Stiles relaxes, remembering what it is he’s doing and why.

_I can do this,_ Stiles wonders, and he moves his tongue experimentally, enjoying the way Derek is warm in his mouth, moans echoing in the shower. In an odd moment Stiles remembers they’re in the _locker room_ at _school_ and he’s giving _Derek Hale_ a _blowjob_. The idea is so fantastic that Stiles wants to laugh but he suppresses it, fairly sure it would be a bad idea.

A thought pops into Stiles’ head and he looks up at Derek, awed at the wrecked expression he’s wearing. Stiles shifts his weight and settles comfortably, tapping Derek’s hips with his fingers. Derek blinks, confused, and then realization dawns on his face. Stiles tries to keep as utterly still as possible as Derek carefully moves his hips, drawing back and forth slowly in and out of Stiles’ mouth. Derek watches the movement, transfixed, and Stiles wants to smile. He knows he’s doing something right and Derek’s heaving breaths start to get quicker as he moves faster, Stiles relaxing from his concentration, secure in the way he’s positioned.

It’s hypnotizing, watching Derek’s flushed face and the way he moves- Stiles feels like he’s seeing something incredibly intimate, an unguarded side of Derek that only he is privy to. The heat of Derek moving against Stiles’ lips is the only thing that matters in the moment and Stiles watches in awe as Derek’s hips snap finally, aftershocks running down his spine as Stiles takes what he’s been given, smiling as his mouth makes a distinct _pop_ when Derek falls from his lips. The sound of water falling beats around them, staccato noises sharp against the ragged huffs of Derek’s breathing.

“That was fun,” Stiles hums, smirking, and Derek laughs breathlessly, strong arms pulling Stiles up fluidly.

“Here,” Derek says, and he reaches for him until Stiles steps back, smirking.

“Not today. Go get dressed, I’ll be outside in a minute.” Derek stands still for a moment, lips parted in confusion and a hint of hurt. Stiles chuckles, stepping forward and pressing a long kiss to Derek’s mouth for a moment. “I said not _today_. I didn’t say anything about _tonight_.”

“Right,” Derek replies with a snort, but the tension drains from him immediately and he kisses Stiles one last time, lingering for a moment before leaving.

Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t raise his arms in a silent cheer.

_I just did that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't fail at that. I wrote this when I couldn't sleep on Friday night. In any case, I felt it was high time for Stiles and Derek to get a move on and actually do something about their relationship. While I adore their kisses I think that Stiles is extremely giving and he's probably prone to doing anything he can to please the people he loves. And besides, he's a horny teenager. Anyways, a pack meeting is coming up next and hopefully we'll start to learn what everyone feels about their little family and Stiles' involvement. R&R!


	5. Snack Food For the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack meeting isn't exactly what Stiles imagined; Derek talks to Stiles about why he's there.   
> Stiles approaches Liam at the lacrosse game and an important conversation is had.

_It would be a whole lot more awkward if I hadn’t brought food,_ Stiles thinks to himself as he dumps the bags on Derek’s table and watches the pack open things up while chattering noisily.

It wasn’t as if they’d all gone silent when he’d walked in- but they sure had quieted.

After their eventful shower Stiles had made Derek stop by Stiles’ house first so he could grab the pre-made dinner he’d prepared for the night. It seemed like a silly, first-grade thing to do- bring food to make friends with the other kids. But it felt like a good idea to Stiles and he knew for sure that Scott hadn’t really eaten much at lunch.

Derek had looked at Stiles like he was made out of diamonds when he slid into the car, arms full with aromatic Tupperware. It hadn’t failed to make Stiles laugh but he still smacked Derek’s hand away as the man attempted to pry at the contents of the plastic bags. Stiles had literally spent hours agonizing over what to make for the pack due to their varied tastes in food until he’d given up and settled on making everything.

Pigs in a blanket, fried rice, mozzarella sticks, chicken nuggets, brownies, vegetables with homemade cucumber dip, pizza rolls- Stiles knew that teenagers lived on snack food. His dad had given him a strange look after coming home to see the odd variety of items being made at the same time but Stiles had passed him a plate with a veggie burger and homemade fries and the Sheriff had contentedly left Stiles to his multitude of pots and pans.

“Oh my god, jerky!” Malia exclaims, and Stiles fights a laugh as she yanks the plastic bag out of the jumble of containers. There were a few last-minute items he’d thrown in the mix, knowing who would want what, and it’s nice to see that he’d successfully managed to distract the attention from the fact that he is at a _pack meeting_.

“Stiles, this rice is _amazing_ ,” Kira says, and he squirms a little in his seat at the compliment.

“Nah- It’s not even technically fried rice,” he replies, but Kira has turned to give Scott a taste and the whole scene is so damn happy-family-like that Stiles feels his heart threatening to explode.

“Hey.”

Derek’s chest is pressed against Stiles’ back and he feels the pleasant buzz of his voice. It’s strange the way that just the sound of Derek’s voice is like a sedative, working its way through Stiles’ jittery limbs like honey. Without thinking Stiles leans back into the touch, smiling vaguely, and then he remembers where they are and who they’re with.

_Oh. Oops._

When he clears his throat and moves away Derek raises an eyebrow and Stiles shoots him a pleading look. He’s really not ready to deal with both the pack accepting him as a human and the pack accepting the fact that…well, that he and Derek are…together? _Are we together?_ Stiles wonders, and for a moment he’s shocked by the realization. He’s pretty sure that at least three kisses and one round of shower (kind of) sex mean that they’re not just friends. But this is _Derek_ , and Derek isn’t known for his relationship skills.

“So, what, um- what do you guys usually do?” Stiles tries painfully not to sound like the new kid at school but it’s hard not to when everyone else is super-powered and you’re not.

“Well…I mean, usually we just talk about whatever’s hunting us. There’s really nothing happening now, so…,” Scott trails off as he shoves two brownies stacked together in his mouth. _Attractive,_ Stiles thinks glibly, but Kira giggles and helps him with the chocolate crumbs dusting his chin. The pack seems to be pretty content, but…

“Where’s Liam?”

Scott is quiet for a minute and Stiles feels like he unwittingly stepped on a land mine. It’s awkward but he’s not willing to back down- this is _exactly_ why he needs to be kept in the loop.

“He…isn’t as into _this_. Pack. I guess,” Scott says, wincing as he tries to explain. Stiles raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Derek. Derek doesn’t seem to know much, or he won’t say anything, so Stiles sighs and resolves to tie things up himself.

“And you asked him that?”

“Stiles, I didn’t even give him a choice,” Scott begins, and Kira rests her hand on his arm, placating. “He already has his own problems, and- he’s just a kid. He wants a normal- or semi-normal- life.”

“I seem to remember you saying the exact same thing,” Stiles says challengingly, and when he tilts his chin Scott glances away, conflicted. The pack is quiet, taking in the argument watchfully.

“I just don’t want him to go through what I did,” Scott says, and he’s so earnest that Stiles wants to hug him. Instead, he settles for rolling his eyes and throwing his arms in the air.

“Oh my _GOD_! You haven’t- none of you LEARN!”

Derek looks at Stiles like he’s insane but Stiles ignores him, rising from his seat to pace in frustration. Kira glances at Scott, shifting in her seat.

“What do you mean?” Kira asks calmly, and Stiles sighs, running his hands over his face.

“I _mean,_ haven’t we been through this before? Scott, do you not remember when Derek was keeping you out of the loop because he wanted to keep you safe? Or when you were keeping _me_ out of the loop to keep me safe?”

Scott shifts in his seat looking vaguely guilty and Stiles sees the way that Derek curls into himself. He isn’t about to stop, though, because they _need_ to hear this.

“Come on, guys. Haven’t we _learned_ anything yet? You can’t keep _not_ telling people things like this. You can’t just expect that a werewolf- _especially_ a just-turned one- can cope on their own and be ready if something happens.”

“Stiles, he doesn’t _want_ -,”

“I don’t _care_ what he _says_ he doesn’t want!” Stiles interrupts Scott angrily. “Scott, come on. You had _me_ when you first started and you remember how hard it was. You didn’t want Derek’s help, either, but guess what? It helped! It _always_ helps! Liam doesn’t have anyone he can turn to except _you_. And you’re telling me you’re just going to back off without even _trying_?”

Stiles knows he’s being harsh but he doesn’t know what else to say. They’ve learned the hard way what happens when they don’t communicate with each other. And besides, if Scott feels so guilty about biting Liam he has to at least _try_ to make the kid understand what’s happened.

“He’s right,” Lydia says quietly, and Scott turns to look at her with sad eyes. “I mean- when I was hallucinating about Peter, I could have used help. If _someone_ had known something, if I had anyone to talk to- it would have helped. You can’t just expect him to get through this, Scott. None of us can. Not if we don’t have help.”

“Scott,” Stiles says, walking over to sit next to his friend. “I know it won’t be easy- but we _have_ to try. As long as he understands that we’re here if he needs help, we don’t _have_ to eat lunch together and share our cookies. Okay?”

It’s lame humor but it manages to make Scott smile a little so Stiles counts it as a victory.

 

* * *

 

When the pack leaves it’s quiet. Stiles finishes washing out the containers in Derek’s sink, lamenting the cheap soap and dollar-store sponge that sit on the counter like intruders. It’s a little past ten but even Friday night carries a curfew for supernatural teenagers.

“You were right, you know,” Derek says, and as his arms circle Stiles’ waist he huffs out a laugh. “Sometimes we don’t learn. That’s why we need you.”

“What, Professor Stiles?” Derek growls in mock anger and Stiles grins, turning in the embrace.

“I mean that sometimes we get caught up in- this,” Derek says, waving a hand as he flashes his bright wolf-eyes. “We think too much and we overlook the simple things.”

“So…what, you all really didn’t think about it? That Liam might not understand what’s going on? I mean, we didn’t really get to explain anything to him, what with the rogue pack and everything.”

“I mean that our reasons seem clear to us. When you’ve been through it, being a werewolf, being a teenager- you just want someone else to have what you didn’t. Scott just wanted to be a better role model to Liam. I would try if I had myself as an example.”

“You did fine,” Stiles huffs, holding Derek tighter, and Derek laughs. “Except for the creeping part where you watched him all the time. That was- creepy.”

“Uh-huh,” Derek says, smiling, and he pulls Stiles into a kiss. “This is why we need you, Stiles. You remind us that we’re still only human.”

“Except _not_ ,” Stiles snorts, and Derek sighs, raising an eyebrow at his constant challenges.

“We’re only half wolf, Stiles- and the other half is _all_ human.” Stiles nods, resting his forehead against Derek’s.

“So…..can we pick up where we left off earlier?”

 

* * *

 

 

Liam looks like a scared kid and Stiles feels for him. He _is_ a kid, and he doesn’t deserve to be this frightened- but he should know that there are people who will support him no matter what. Stiles considers that for a moment before he glances at the field, the night broken by bright lights. Lacrosse has a funny way of reminding him that they’re all still in high school and they have lives outside of fighting hunters, wolves, nogitsune, and other assorted beasts.

“You okay?” Liam almost jumps when Stiles talks and that’s not a good sign.

“Yeah- fine,” Liam says, but Stiles doesn’t have to be a wolf to know he’s lying. Stiles has been through this- he knows what it is to pretend you’re fine when you’re not.

“Huh. Has Scott talked to you lately?”

Liam looks at Stiles like he has two heads and Stiles takes it as a no. _Dammit, Scott. Get on the ball, man._ They’re quiet for a moment as the bleachers start to fill up and Stiles takes the opportunity to observe Liam. It _is_ pre-game but Liam seems too jittery for someone who was _already_ really good at the game. Liam’s looking around nervously, though, as if expecting-

_As if expecting to see something._

Stiles feels it hit home hard, the realization making his mouth dry at once. He realizes why he’s been so bothered, why Liam’s case had bugged him so much that he’d actually bring it up to Scott.

“What is it you see?”

If it weren’t for his new powers Liam probably wouldn’t have heard Stiles. As it is he looks at Stiles as if unsure.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, and while his voice is level his eyes seem just a little bit hopeful. Stiles curses himself for not realizing sooner.

“What is it you see that makes you afraid? That’s what it is, right? You’re seeing something.”

“It,” Liam corrects, and he sounds shaky. Stiles moves a little closer on the bench, trying to keep him talking. “I- those things. The berserkers.”

“Yeah, those things were- _fucking_ terrifying,” Stiles says, and Liam looks at him like he’s crazy. _Aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?_ “What, you want me to tell you they’re not dangerous? That you have nothing to be afraid of?” Stiles asks, challenging, and Liam tenses.

“I don’t-,”

“You don’t want me to lie,” Stiles says calmly. “They _are_ dangerous. But you know what? So are we.”

“You’re just human,” Liam says, but his sideways look seems unsure. Stiles sighs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes, well spotted- but so is Chris Argent. So was Kate when she killed most of Derek’s family. So is Lydia, for the most part. But you know what? We have wolfsbane. We have baseball bats and guns,” Stiles says waving his hands vaguely. Liam still doesn’t look convinced.

“How is that supposed to work against _them_?”

“It’s _not_ ,” Stiles says. “But Scott will. Derek will. They’re strong, Liam. They _can_ fight them. And all _we_ have to do is help, until we can be as strong as they are. And we don’t _have_ to be as strong as them right now, or ever. We just have to be there to help- because we’re lucky. They’ll protect _us._ So we have to do everything in our power to protect _them_.”

Liam looks down at his gloved hands and Stiles thinks he sees something there. He thinks maybe he’s getting through to him.

“I’ll be in the way,” Liam says wearily, as if he’s thought this many times before. “And I don’t want- I can’t protect everyone all the time. I’m not like him- I’m not like _you_.”

“Well, good. I can only handle one do-good wolf,” Stiles quips, and Liam looks at him like he’s insane again but the expression gives way to a slight smile. Stiles’ inner voice cheers.

“I have problems, Stiles.”

“Well, I was recently possessed by a vengeful fox spirit that made me try to kill basically everyone I knew,” Stiles deadpans, and Liam raises both of his eyebrows. “Yeah, it’s more impressive than it sounds.”

Liam snorts, shaking his head, but there’s a hint of a smile there- and that’s enough for Stiles.

 

* * *

 

After the match the locker room is rowdy with cheerful players. Winning games is not exactly something they’re good at but Stiles feels like they might just be getting better. In any case, it makes for a good atmosphere, especially now that Stiles isn’t deathly afraid of some hunter or creature that could be lying in wait.

Scott wrestling Stiles into a half-naked hug is _not_ normal even _now_ , though.

“Whoa- _dude_ ,” Stiles flails, vaguely grossed-out by Scott’s sweaty, bare arms. Scott just laughs, squeezing Stiles happily.

“We _won_!”

“Yeah, I _noticed_ ,” Stiles replies, vaguely thrown off by Scott’s sudden touchy-feely mood. Scott seems to notice the strangeness and he blinks, stepping back, wearing a vaguely embarrassed expression.

“Sorry,” Scott manages, and he laughs awkwardly. He looks confused.

“Yeeeeeaaaaah…what was that about?” Stiles watches Scott closely, curious.

“What, I can’t hug my best friend?” Scott’s nose wrinkles at the lame excuse and Stiles gives him a pointed look.

“While extremely sweaty and shirtless? We’re close, bro- we’re not _that_ close.”

“I- you just…seem different,” Scott manages, and he looks as if he’s unsure why that is.

“Different _how_?”

“I don’t know- you just…it’s like…,” Scott’s having trouble with his words and he looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm so Stiles waves him away, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, man. Just-,”

And then Liam does the _exact same thing._

“What the _hell_?!”

Liam backs away quickly with an extremely embarrassed expression and Stiles feels bad for approximately one second. And then he remembers he’s getting _shirtless hugs_ from _werewolves_.

“Sorry. I-,”

“Let me guess, I _seem different_.”

Liam glances at Scott self-consciously and Stiles throws his hands in the air. He is _so_ not ready for this.

 

* * *

 

“We need to talk,” Stiles says, and Derek’s smile grows infinitely more amused.

“What is it?” Derek seems like he’s trying not to laugh and Stiles doesn’t appreciate it.

“It’s the fact that _two_ werewolves just gave me shirtless hugs and then a kitsune decided to try and squeeze me to death. What is _wrong_ with-,”

Stiles is cut off when Derek’s smile morphs into a frown and he pulls Stiles close, inhaling deeply.

“Okay, _what_ the _f_ -,”

“You smell like them,” Derek grumbles, and Stiles laughs incredulously.

“What- you don’t like that? Are you serious?” Derek growls a little but Stiles just laughs, hugging him closer. It’s immensely funny for no other reason that it’s totally cliché.

“…you smell-,”

“If you tell me I smell different, I _swear_ to god-,”

“You _do_ ,” Derek insists, and he nuzzles at Stiles’ neck like a giant- well, dog. Or wolf.

“What do I smell like?” Stiles asks, fully expecting to get another cryptic answer. So when Derek answers, he feels his heart skip a beat- and it’s not just from surprise.

“Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote so much today! Well, I hope you enjoy this installment- I feel like Liam's storyline has been kind of given a backseat because there's so much going on. I knew I wanted the entire pack to get closer and I felt like the first step was getting Liam's position resolved. Now that they've talked about it, I hope he'll get closer to everyone. And I have been DYING to write the springboard for Stiles becoming more of a pack mom because let's be honest, we ALL love protective Stiles.


	6. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns about what it means to "smell like home". An old friend shows up with some disturbing news and the pack has to deal with a new set of problems.  
> Or, the one where they really become family.

Stiles isn’t sure what smelling like “home” means, but apparently it entails a _lot_ of physical contact from supernatural creatures.

Liam is regularly attending pack meetings now but he still seems unsure as to whether or not he wants to be completely involved. Stiles is glad to have him, though, and he tries to make Liam as comfortable as possible.

Apparently it works a little _too_ well because Liam rarely leaves Stiles’ side. It’s become a regular occurrence for Stiles to find himself sandwiched between Scott and Liam; the strange proximity is beginning to make Stiles wonder just what his scent actually means. Malia has taken to sitting between Stiles’ legs on the floor beneath the couch and Kira always slings her legs over Scott’s lap so that her sock-clad feet poke at Stiles’ thigh.

_Everyone tries to keep physical contact with Stiles._

It’s not like Stiles hasn’t done his research. Since they were kids Stiles has been used to Scott being overly loving and physical but it’s _weird_ to see everyone else suddenly act the same. Stiles comes to the conclusion that it’s the wolf (or fox) side of them and they’re just manifesting the close bond that pack feels.

And Stiles realizes he’s _pack_. It’s a good feeling, probably the best he’s had in ages. It feels safe and Stiles is no longer holding a bleeding heart, waiting on the fringes of his group of supernatural friends. Things are _fantastic_.

And then Chris Argent shows up.

Stiles has nothing against Chris- in fact, he really likes the man. Chris is a lot like Stiles’ dad once he thinks about it. But after Allison’s death Chris has fallen into a dark pit and he’s taking longer to climb out. Stiles knows he needs someone, anyone to be there and Isaac probably isn’t enough, considering the guy is going through his own grieving process.

Whatever the case Stiles feels his heart clench painfully when Chris shows up at Derek’s loft, eyes steely and hand clasped on the holster at his hip.

“Hey,” Stiles says, and he steps aside to let Chris in. The man glances about the room, watching the pack as the rise from their positions around the couch. His eyes don’t miss the way that Derek comes to stand right behind Stiles but he doesn’t say anything. Yet.

“We have a problem. I haven’t been able to track Kate down yet but I know she’s after something- or someone.”

It’s a clear statement and Stiles knows _exactly_ who Kate is after.

“Scott,” Stiles says suddenly, and he turns to look at his best friend. Scott inches closer to Stiles, Kira and Liam following closely. Lydia crosses her arms as she makes her way around to stand before Chris.

“How do you know?” Lydia asks, and Chris sighs, glancing at the circle of friend before walking past them to stand over the table in front of the glass windows.

“Because it makes sense. This is _Kate_ we’re talking about. The only thing she cares about is being an Argent, a hunter- and she thinks Scott destroyed us,” Chris explains, and Stiles looks at Scott, reassuring. Scott doesn’t seem too pleased about the observation.

“So what- Kate’s been trying to get to Scott the whole time? That’s why she took Derek?” Stiles asks, but even as he says it he knows something’s off.

“She knew that Scott would come after Derek; that’s why she took him,” Chris says, but there’s a furrow in his brow, like there’s a missing piece he doesn’t understand.

“Wait. She had to have known where to look,” Stiles begins slowly, and he turns to pace the floor a few steps, staring at the ground. “So someone told Kate how to get to Derek.”

“She could have just found him on her own,” Chris argues, but his worried expression isn’t convincing Stiles.

“She doesn’t have control,” Scott remembers, and he seems to be catching on. “There’s no way that she would have been able to find him _and_ take him out with so little control.”

“So who would have helped her?” Stiles wonders aloud, and he looks back at the pack- and something clicks. _Oh my god_.

“Peter,” Derek breathes, and Stiles sees the way that disbelief, pain, and resignation make their way across his face. “He told her- and then he helped you try to get me back.”

“Why would he have done that?” Kira asks, shaking her head. “Team up and then betray her?”

“Because he thought we wouldn’t make it out,” Lydia says, and Stiles recognizes the faraway look in her eyes as she speaks. “We almost didn’t.”

“I just thought I should warn you,” Chris says suddenly, and then he turns to leave, fingers gripping the edges of his jacket.

“Wait,” Stiles says, and he doesn’t know what he wants to say as the word leaves his mouth. The pack look at him, curious, but their eyes tell him something. There’s trust, respect, love. They believe in whatever he has to say. Stiles feels the knowledge swell in his chest and he takes a step forward, suddenly sure. “We meet here on Fridays- usually seven. You should come.”

Chris’ eyes widen ever so slightly but he looks at the pack and the way they’re surrounding Stiles, the way they don’t seem to have any argument whatsoever. He sees the way that Derek hasn’t moved from where he stands behind Stiles and the way their fingers are just brushing, a faint touch that is ever-present.

“Maybe I will.”

 

* * *

 

Inviting Chris was a bold move but Stiles knows he’s done the right thing when he sees the way the man relaxes a little, the wrinkles around his eyes smoothing as he spreads his hand over a map of Mexico. Derek is across from Chris, leaning over the map as they discuss the church where Derek was trapped.

“Food’s ready!” Stiles calls from the kitchen, and he laughs when the pack surges past him, Kira and Lydia offering him quick kisses on the cheek while Scott and Liam grip his shoulder a second longer than usual. It’s becoming strangely normal for Stiles to receive these little gestures, touches and words that make him feel like he’s _loved_. Somehow all the love is still unfamiliar but Stiles finds a sense of awe in the pack’s closeness.

Derek comes up last, hand briefly resting on Stiles’ arm, and Stiles is glad that no one can see the goofy smile on his face. This is a love that feels familiar and it’s by far the stranger. It’s only been two weeks but Stiles and Derek have fallen into a life that feels so _routine_ that it’s like they’ve been together for years. Their relationship is getting hard to hide, though, and Stiles had decided to tell the pack the truth this meeting. That is, until Chris showed up.

_Speaking of which._

Chris has been watching, Stiles realizes, and his keen eyes have most definitely picked up on the way that Derek touches Stiles, the way that Stiles responds, open and unguarded. The moment Derek walks into the kitchen Stiles gazes at Chris warily, ready for a lecture at least.

“How long?” Chris asks, watching the pack move about the kitchen noisily. The food doesn’t stand a chance.

“Not long,” Stiles hums, turning to look at the scene with him. “Maybe two weeks. At least officially.”

“They’re different,” Chris observes, and Stiles wants to laugh. _Different. The word of the week._

“Yeah, some of them got their heads out of their asses,” Stiles says, raising his voice a little, and Scott sticks out his tongue as Kira laughs airily, looking up at him with bright eyes. Scott and Kira are going strong and Stiles is glad for it.

“That’s not what I meant,” Chris replies, but Stiles sees his small smile and he wants to cheer. “They’re more…human now. More like teenagers.”

“Well, they _are_ ,” Stiles says. He doesn’t miss the way that Chris watches him, scrutinizing.

“Yeah. They seem to forget that sometimes,” Chris says, and Stiles doesn’t miss the note of sadness in his voice. _Ah_.

Death has always been close. Erica, Boyd, Allison, Aiden- so many have died. Stiles knows things are different. They went from dealing with their own small circle of werewolves to dealing with more and more supernatural creatures. Eventually someone was going to get hurt- and not just in an immediately-healing-werewolf kind of way.

_Yesterday we were pretending. Now it’s real._

“That’s why I remind them,” Stiles says simply, and Chris smiles a little, patting Stiles’ shoulder.

“They need you.”

“And I need them,” Stiles says, smiling when Liam tosses a pepperoni at Derek and the older wolf mock-glares.

_We have to protect each other._

 

* * *

 

 

Thinking back, Stiles realizes his conversation with Chris was probably the universe’s way of foreshadowing.

The hunters arrived quickly. Stiles barely had time to call Chris and warn him before the pack set out for the woods, knowing exactly where to look. The abandoned hideout Kate had used was an obvious spot but Stiles knew the hunters were probably just as fanatical and bent on revenge as her.

Liam was recovering quickly after being grazed by a wolfsbane bullet and Stiles was beyond furious at what had happened. The idea that the hunters had attacked in broad daylight, woods or not, was completely brazen and uncaring. Scott had managed to get Liam to Deaton’s and out of harm’s way, but the hunters knew who they were looking for and none of the pack felt safe leading the hunters back to their homes.

Stiles had suggested a head-on approach for once and the pack had agreed. There was no time to second-guess; the hunters were undoubtedly sent by Kate and they were not going to give up. Stiles called Chris in hopes that he might be able to talk the hunters out of whatever they were planning but he didn’t expect much.

“Liam, Derek- you two wait back at the ridge, keep your eyes and ears open. If things don’t go well you need to be ready to help Chris. Scott, stay close to Chris and try to look as puppy-like as possible.”

Kira laughs nervously, one hand tight on her katana.

“Kira, I need you to stay up in the trees unless things go south. We’re going to need an eye on the place just in case they try using a second entrance or something as a sneak attack.”

Kira makes her way up the tree deftly, she and Scott sharing a quick kiss. Stiles takes a deep breath, shouldering his new, metal bat easily.

“Okay. Let’s-,”

Stiles is cut off when Derek pulls him close, the hug worried and determined at the same time. Liam is watching them with wide eyes and Scott is standing a few feet away, confused.

“Be careful,” Derek says quietly, and Stiles feels his heart just about burst. He knows every werewolf in the vicinity can hear it but right now he doesn’t care. _Screw the plan. Screw confessions. I am NOT waiting._

Stiles moves out of the hug, yanks Derek’s collar, and kisses him. Right. In. Front. Of. Everyone.

“ _You_ be careful,” Stiles growls, and Derek’s dazed expression is still there when Stiles turns away to walk past a gaping Scott and a pointedly not-paying-attention Chris.

“Stiles-,” Scott begins, and he sounds vaguely amused and not a little bit hysterical but Stiles cuts him off with a raised hand.

“Not _one_ word,” Stiles threatens, and he stills his heart by swinging his bat down, gripping the handle with sure fingers. “We have work to do.”

 

* * *

 

Things got to hell just as quickly as Stiles anticipated. He did not, however, anticipate the clearly psychotic werewolf they have in tow.

Stiles is pretty sure the wolf is newly turned and not convinced of the merits of control. The werewolf fights messily but he’s huge and _very_ dangerous so no one’s getting within a few feet of him. There’s one hunter keeping Chris preoccupied and another keeping Liam and Kira busy. Three hunters are attempting to tackle Derek and Scott and the werewolf is generally creating a whole lot of chaos.

_Time for plan S. S for Stiles,_ Stiles thinks to himself humorlessly. The bat tingles in his hands and he swings it with easy movements, the muscles in his arm flexing as he moves from where he’s been crouching by the hideout’s entrance.

There’s a loud, metallic _thwack_ when the bat connects with the side of the werewolf’s arm.

“ _Stiles!_ ”

Scott’s voice seems far away and Stiles knows it’s the adrenaline but it doesn’t really matter right now. The wolf roars, enraged, and Stiles steps back quickly, watching the deformed right arm mend itself slowly. _Looks like brute force isn’t going to do much,_ Stiles thinks helpfully, and he reaches into his pocket.

“Stiles, what are you doing?!” Derek sounds panicked and Stiles knows this wasn’t part of the plan but they _need_ him.

“Stay back!” Stiles shouts, and his own roar surprises him. There’s _authority_ in his voice and the pack instinctively backpedals, eyes wide. The werewolf before Stiles seems amused at the scrawny teenager standing up to him but Stiles channels the nasty part of him that emerged when the nogitsune took over. He feels more than a little filthy doing it but he knows that if he doesn’t, his friends are probably going to be injured too badly to fight.

“Here, doggie,” Stiles coos, and he lets his grin flash, all teeth. There is a part of him that is howling for blood and he dimly wonders if it’s the effect of being around the pack or if some primal instinct has been awoken. The werewolf growls and lunges but Stiles anticipates it, having watched the beast fight for a good five minutes already. Stiles sidesteps easily, bringing the bat down like hell on the wolf’s neck.

The sickening crunch should by all means signal death but the thing is a werewolf and Stiles knows he only has a few seconds to act. The knife in Stiles’ hand gleams silver (a gift from Allison) and he forcefully slices at the wolf’s throat. The resulting roar shakes the trees and Stiles yanks the pouch he’s been hiding beneath his shirt. A stream of bright blue falls into his open hand and Stiles shoves it into the open wound, feeling a sick joy when his fingers part the red flesh and the werewolf roars in pain.

The werewolf jerks suddenly and Stiles is thrown back against the tree, losing his wind for a moment. The pack start to move but Stiles automatically yells, alarmed.

“Stay _back_!” The wolfsbane is still on his fingers and even as he pulls the pouch shut the werewolf is writhing on the ground, tearing at its own neck. Liam is watching with wide eyes and Stiles feels sorry for a moment, knowing that he’s never seen the effects wolfsbane can have on a wolf. The hunters haven’t stopped their attack, though, and the pack has their hands full.

Stiles feels bad for only a minute before he sees the hunter that Chris is fighting pull out a knife from his boot.

“Argent!” Stiles yells, and Chris turns quickly, dodging the projectile as he reloads his gun. The relief Stiles feels is palpable but then Liam lets out a yelp and Stiles sees him go down, an arrow protruding from his leg. Stiles’ heart skips a beat and he moves without thinking, confident now that he isn’t fighting a giant werewolf.

The bat connects with the man’s stomach and the hunter is winded, falling to the ground in a gasp. Stiles shoves him over the edge of the ditch they’re standing by, hoping the man doesn’t come up for a while. Liam is still on the ground and Stiles is at his side in a moment, fingers grasping the arrow.

“Don’t move,” Stiles says calmly, and the way Liam looks at him- trusting, scared- almost breaks his heart. Stiles breathes in deep, pulling the arrow forcefully. Liam roars in pain but the wound looks like it’s already starting to mend itself. “Okay. You’re okay,” Stiles breathes, and Liam looks relieved for a moment before shock takes over his face.

“Stiles!”

There’s a loud thump and Stiles feels the air rush out of his lungs, the world suddenly tilting as he’s thrown aside. Something solid and rough (tree, his brain helpfully supplies) connects with his back and he sees stars for a moment. There’s only one thing on his mind, though.

“Liam,” Stiles coughs, and his blurry vision clears for a second and he sees the boy snarling, tossing a hunter into the air, eyes ablaze with fury. _Wow,_ Stiles thinks sluggishly, and Derek is suddenly close, roaring at the hunter that had just been in front of Stiles.

Suddenly it’s quiet and Stiles’ ears stop ringing. The pack doesn’t move, breathing heavily.

The moment breaks and everyone moves quickly, rushing to Stiles. It’s incredible that even as Kira and Scott cling to each other they move, as if pulled by gravity, to Stiles. He feels overwhelmed for a minute but then Derek is there, pulling him to his feet, and Stiles lets himself melt into Derek’s arms. The world has righted itself and he breathes out, relieved.

“Stiles,” Derek is saying, and he repeats the name like it’s a prayer. Liam is hanging back, unable to look up, and Stiles moves forward, stopping for a second when he remembers the wolfsbane still smeared on his bloody fingertips.

“Hey,” Stiles says quietly, and Scott is watching him with muted sympathy. Liam glances up at Stiles but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. I-,”

“You saved me,” Liam says quietly, and Kira shares a secret smile with Scott. Stiles barely notices past the lump that’s growing in his throat. “You’re human, Stiles- you could have-!”

“I didn’t,” Stiles says calmly, and he moves closer to Liam, smiling wearily. “Besides, you’re worth saving.” Stiles doesn’t remind him that he took down a werewolf single-handedly, doesn’t remind him that he’s seen fights like these before. It doesn’t matter. Right now Liam is questioning himself, questioning his worth and the idea that a human would do something like this.

Stiles isn’t surprised when Liam hugs him. He isn’t surprised when Derek joins in, and then Kira and Scott and Chris with his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. It isn’t _different_.

It’s pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is the best chapter yet. I felt like it was important to pick up the storyline since this fic is technically set in a pretend period after Liam is bitten. Kate is still a threat but some things are different. I think we're nearing the end of the road! My point in writing this was to kind of point out a different route for S4 that included more communication and the concept of "pack" because I feel like there hasn't /been/ a pack for a while now and it was so important to Scott.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the Chris feels (I really adore him) and Liam as the baby. Oh, and I can TOTALLY see Stiles carrying around wolfsbane and a bat.


	7. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and the pack go back to Derek's after the fight.

After the fight the pack insisted on keeping Stiles close; Stiles had stopped at home to assure his dad the pack just wanted some bonding time, glossing over his part in the attack that night. His dad wasn’t stupid, though, so after a few pointed words and a fatherly admonition Stiles was given permission to go.

“Wait- can…can you bring some blankets and stuff?” Scott asks Stiles as they’re about to leave. Stiles frowns, hefting his bag over his shoulder and turning.

“Yeah, I guess- Derek doesn’t have any?”

“This is Derek,” Scott says, and Stiles laughs but he doesn’t have to be a werewolf to see Scott isn’t telling the entire truth. For a minute he’s not sure why but the question is gone and he goes upstairs to grab an armful of things.

 

* * *

 

The ride back is quick and Stiles finds himself being surrounded as they all enter the loft. It’s a bit strange but comforting, like most things in his life these days. Scott and Liam are flanking Stiles, Derek walking in front at a controlled pace.

As soon as the door opens Stiles is ushered in, blankets and pillows haphazardly spread on the ground in a pile. He’s left standing bewildered for a moment before he smiles, realizing the mess has been organized around him.

“Guys, really-,”

“If you say ‘I’m okay’, I _will_ scream at you,” Lydia warns, and Stiles huffs in amusement, watching her primly adjust her dress as she cozies up on a soft, blue blanket. Scott, Kira, Liam, and Derek soon join in, all spread in a disorganized jumble around Stiles. It’s like nothing Stiles has ever experienced before and he feels warmth bloom in his chest.

When Derek inhales deeply Stiles realizes why Scott was so adamant about bringing everything. Stiles notices with increasing awe that Liam’s face is smashed into a pillow that he clutches like a teddy bear. Even Kira and Scott are gripping the blankets as they rest in each other’s embrace.

The pack is asleep in seconds but Stiles stays awake, turning quietly to watch Derek’s face. His eyes are closed but Stiles knows he’s awake.

“Sleep,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles smiles, fingers tracing the arch of his cheek. Derek’s face seems to change- every time Stiles looks at him he sees something new, a birthmark or a wrinkle from where his eyes scrunch up when he’s laughing.

“I don’t want to,” Stiles whispers, and Derek’s eyes open to watch Stiles, mouth curling upwards softly.

“Sleep,” Derek says, but this time he seals the word with a kiss. Stiles feels his eyes growing heavy and he grins, a buzz on his lips. Derek pulls him closer, arms warm, and Stiles rests his head under Derek’s.

_This is safe. This is home. This is pack._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, but this is the wrap-up. We are at the end. I honestly didn't expect this fic to go on so long! It was a one-shot, then a two-shot, and now it's...seven? Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the journey- I know I did! I thought about extending everything past the whole Kate arc but I felt like the point of this fic was to integrate Liam and build up the pack bonds. To that end, I hope I succeeded. R&R and I love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> I've just moved in to college recently and (scarily) chopped my hair off into a pixie cut! I may be a little bit crazy right now. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new romp in TW-verse and I've been dying to try out Liam and Kira in my fics. Please read and review!


End file.
